


Finding the Floor

by kuroashi



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Bottom Ian Gallagher, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroashi/pseuds/kuroashi
Summary: It had been a rough few months.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 21
Kudos: 273





	Finding the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> My first (and probably only) time writing bottom!Ian. I would call this ‘PWP’ but honestly the sex is not that… sexy. It’s meant to be kind of realistic (i.e. awkward). It’s just soft, hurt/comfort-y smut that I decided to write after having a crappy day. I hope you enjoy it.

It had been a rough few months.

After a bout of depression triggered by increased resistance to one of his meds, Ian was slowly coming back to himself. It had been difficult getting him to see that he was sick to begin with, and Mickey had once again been faced with the painful possibility of seeing his husband admitted to hospital. Thankfully it hadn’t come to that this time, but it was no less painful to see his goober of a husband deteriorate into just a shell of himself.

The new meds, however, were not without their side effects. The first type Ian tried had given him devastating anxiety and nausea that kept him up through the night. The shrink had insisted that Ian “persevere” through the first ten days “or so” of side effects. However, after the third night in a row of peeling his sweat-soaked husband off the bathroom floor and stroking his back until he fell into fitful sleep, Mickey had marched Ian down to the clinic again and demanded a new drug that didn’t turn his husband into a complete wreck.

This one was much better in that it wasn’t forcing them both to take time off work to deal with it, but it was causing some other, no less pleasing effects.

Which was how Mickey found himself with his head cradled in his husband’s crotch, his mouth wrapped around his dick, trying to work it to full hardness. He pulled his head away and glanced up at Ian, who was resting his head against the pillows with his eyes closed, and worked on jerking his husband’s still-flaccid cock with his hand.

“Hey, you still with me?” he said, a smile playing at his lips.

Ian opened one eye. “Yeah,” he whispered.

It was dark, the room only lit by the lamp beside the bed. The house was silent but for their breathing and the odd creak of the mattress.

“Not feelin’ it?” he asked.

“I am, but I just can’t…” Ian replied, shifting a little on the bed.

Mickey gave him a soft look. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, man.”

“I’m not—” Ian began, his voice raising an octave before it came back down to the same hushed tones they were speaking in. “I’m not embarrassed, I just… I want to make you feel good. I want to feel close to you and I can’t—I can’t even get it up,” he finished. “You sure you don’t want me to try sucking you off again? Fuck my gag reflex.”

Mickey shook his head and looked him up and down, over the soft ginger hairs peppering the sinuous planes and dips of muscle, considered his bitten fingernails resting on the pillow beside his head. He stroked one hand up and let his fingers glide through the dip between his pectoral muscles, then over his collarbone and neck until he was cradling the side of his head. He leaned forward and placed a slow, deep kiss on Ian’s lips, his tongue slipping between them.

When he pulled away, they were both breathing a little harder into the warm space between them, and Mickey felt his husband’s cock twitch minutely in his grip.

“I want you to get something out of this too. How is your stomach, by the way?” Mickey asked, resting his palm against Ian’s belly.

Ian glanced down at it. “Fine. I haven’t felt sick at all since I started taking them. Why?” he asked.

“You don’t look as sick as you did before. You looked even paler, if that’s possible.”

Ian smiled ruefully. “You know, this isn’t a very sexy conversation.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey laughed. “I’m just thinking…”

“Woah, don’t hurt yourself,” Ian said.

Mickey pinched his nipple and bit back a grin.

Ian squirmed away with a giggle and Mickey let go of his cock, still no harder now than when they began almost thirty minutes ago. If Ian was back to making his lame jokes, it could only be a good sign that the meds were starting to work.

It was quiet for a little while and they basked in the stillness of the night. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. A few streets away, two men were yelling – probably drunk, or high, or both (probably both). Something in the house ticked over and began to hum.

“Maybe… maybe we should try something different,” Mickey said tentatively, lying against his husband’s side and playing with his balls idly.

“Like what?” Ian asked, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Mickey took the cig from him and took a drag. “Well,” he said, passing it back to him, “did you really start bottoming while I was gone?”

Ian was silent. “Well… yeah, but it was only with one guy.”

Mickey didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t especially want to hear about Ian’s flings with other men, or his own semi was going to go totally soft before the smoke was even stubbed out in the ashtray.

…But he didn’t like the idea of Ian only ever bottoming for one guy either. It felt… _wrong_ for that guy to not be him.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

Ian seemed to consider this for a moment. “Well, I can’t say it’s my preference,” he began.

Mickey snorted. “You can say that again. You are the definition of a service top, Gallagher.”

Ian laughed softly. Mickey felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, and you’re the definition of a bossy bottom,” he said, squeezing Mickey’s pectoral muscle with the hand that was slung over his shoulder. “Nah… It was okay. It wasn’t… it wasn’t anything to write home about, I guess. I did it because he wanted to do it that way and… I agreed. But you’re right. I _do_ like being on top. I love it.”

Mickey smirked and played with Ian’s fingers as he thought.

“You ever thought about doing it with me?” he asked.

Ian turned his head on the pillow and looked down at him. “Are you asking to fuck me in the ass?” he asked, only slightly teasing.

“I’m just sayin’… maybe it’ll help get you goin’…” he mumbled.

Ian stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and settled down again. “Well... I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” he said.

Mickey smirked.

“I know you’d make it good,” Ian murmured, looking at Mickey from under his eyelashes.

Mickey stared at him and swallowed. Truthfully, he didn’t like topping all that much. It never came close to the intensity of pleasure and release of stress that being fucked gave him. It just felt so natural to him, to be penetrated by another man – specifically Ian – despite everything he’d been taught to the contrary, and the desire had persisted beyond every attempt he’d made to repress it. But the way that Ian was looking at him, and the prospect of sharing that pleasure with him, was making him reel with the possibilities of being on the opposite end of things…

Slowly, Mickey leaned forward and caught his husband’s lips with his own again. This kiss had a different feel to it. Ian still felt vulnerable; he still had that jittery edge to his movements, but now Mickey was responding to the desire Ian hadn’t been able to express physically and it felt more fluid. He moaned as they kissed passionately and slid forward until he was straddling his hips. Their cocks slid together wonderfully, sending jolts of electricity through their bodies.

Ian’s hands came up to grip his hips and he sighed into the kiss. He tilted his head to the side and the kiss got even better. Little waves of static shivered up and down his back as Ian’s hand stroked his spine, then over his hips again to grip one of Mickey’s ass cheeks.

Mickey almost whined. He didn’t need his ass played with right now – it only fuelled his hunger for Ian’s cock to be inside him even further, which was not conductive to what he had in mind.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he pulled away.

Ian smirked and brought both his hands down to squeeze Mickey’s ass cheeks hard, then pulled them apart so his hole was exposed to the cool night air. A shudder wracked Mickey’s body, and he let out a cry as Ian’s mouth found his nipple just as he felt a fingertip tease his rim.

“Fuck—Ian—!” he panted.

“Jesus,” Ian growled against his chest, “fucking meds.”

Mickey glanced down and reached for his husband’s cock, tugging on it a few times. His arm flexed as he jerked it desperately, even pausing to tease the fraenulum the way he knew Ian liked.

Ian was staring too, his brow furrowed as he rubbed Mickey’s hole and panted through his nose.

…Nothing.

“Fuck sake,” Ian sighed, his head falling back onto the pillow.

Mickey bit his lip and pulled his arm away in defeat. Then, he reached into the drawer of their nightstand and pulled out the lube.

“You sure about this?” he asked. “I mean, I know I’m not like you. I’m not hung like a fucking horse or anything, but I do have a lot of experience with getting fucked in the ass. It hurts if you don’t do it right.”

Ian shifted on the bed below him, one arm slung across his forehead and a dismayed expression on his face. “It can’t hurt. We’ve tried pretty much everything else.”

Mickey nodded and leaned down to kiss him. He swirled his tongue around inside his mouth and hummed softly. They made out for a few minutes, Mickey rocking against him slowly, his own cock now rock hard as Ian stroked his back. He spread his legs a little wider to accommodate Mickey’s body.

Pulling away, Mickey reached for the lube again and uncapped it with his thumb. He tried not to show it in his body language, but he was nervous. He never felt nervous during sex, especially not with Ian. He certainly hadn’t felt nervous with the guys in prison, but there was an agenda there that he didn’t have with Ian. He wanted him to feel good. It hadn’t been this way with them.

Despite his attempts to hide his nerves, Ian apparently clocked them anyway, because there was a large hand threading itself through the short hair on the back of his head and pulling him down. Ian kissed him slowly, brought his other hand up to stroke his face with his thumb soothingly.

“I trust you,” he whispered after pulling away.

Mickey gazed down at him and nodded.

His fingers slid into him more smoothly than he’d expected, and he tried not to think about it too much. Ian seemed to be relaxed, if his breathing was anything to go by, and Mickey focused on pressing a third finger into him.

Ian let out a soft groan at that. Mickey bit his lip and continued to watch his husband’s face as he felt around inside the hot, pulsing heat of him, searching for that spot that always made him come apart when Ian fucked him. It took a few tries, which was several more than it usually took Mickey, who was more than used to doing this to himself. It turned out that doing it to someone else was quite a lot harder; Ian was bigger than he was, his proportions were different, and Mickey wasn’t all that well versed in anatomy, so he didn’t really know where to look.

Finally, he brushed it with a knuckle. He knew this because Ian suddenly seemed to light up like a Christmas tree: his eyes flew open, his hips jerked and he let out a punchy, breathless moan.

Mickey grinned as he listened to Ian let out a stream of shaky breaths. When he finally sighed and relaxed back into the pillows, Mickey smirked and curled his fingers towards himself again.

The result was the same, but Ian let out a choked groan and the muscles in his thighs, which were pressed against Mickey’s hips, actually quivered. Mickey smirked again and leaned down to kiss his husband’s parted lips. Ian’s brow was furrowed and his face was flushed with arousal. Mickey liked that about him; his ears would pink first, then his cheeks, and then all of his pale, Celtic skin would flush scarlet.

“Feeling good?” he asked against his lips.

“Yeah,” Ian replied, his breath shuddering out of him. “Get inside me.”

Mickey smiled against his mouth and slid his fingers out of him. He squeezed a little more lube out of the bottle and spread it over his cock, then wiped his hand on the bed sheet. He steadied himself on his knees and pushed Ian’s legs up slightly with his elbows. Then he was lining himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against the tight curl of muscle between his husband’s legs.

Ian was staring up at him, his eyes wide and his face vulnerable. His mouth was a tight line, and he was panting through his nose as Mickey pushed into him.

It was so outside of Mickey’s usual desires when it came to sex that it kind of surprised him how good it felt. He could feel every pulse and twitch of Ian’s body against his cock. His hole was tighter than anything he’d ever felt around him. He arched his back and closed his eyes as he leaned into the feeling, a low groan escaping his lips.

Below him, Ian was panting. It took a few moments for Mickey to come back to himself and focus on his husband once more.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a little choked with the pressure of keeping still.

“Uh huh,” Ian replied, but his voice was a bit too tight for Mickey’s liking. 

He didn’t say anything, but he kept still until Ian’s face softened and his breathing evened out.

“You can move,” he breathed, his legs relaxing a little.

Mickey nodded and licked his lips. He closed his eyes and drew back a little, glancing up when he heard Ian sigh. He pushed back in again, slowly, and then out, and then in again, gently. He was watching Ian’s face for any sign of pain, but he found none; only tension and the same edge of anxiety he’d had for the last couple of weeks.

For his part, Mickey was having a hard time keeping his libido under control. He wanted to fuck into Ian until he was spent, but more than that he wanted him inside him, where he belonged.

Speaking of…

Mickey glanced down to Ian’s cock and smirked.

“Hey,” he said softly, and motioned down to where they were joined.

“I know,” Ian gasped, and arched his back a little. “Fuck.”

Licking his lips, Mickey began to thrust a little faster, but still with the same caution as before. Ian moaned, a low sound, and then he shuddered.

“Ah—Mick—” he panted, his voice smothering the gentle creaks the mattress had begun to make in time with Mickey’s thrusts.

Mickey brought his hand up to stroke Ian’s face and he leaned in for a kiss. He moaned into it, his hips jerking as Ian pulsed around him. He started aiming a little higher, and he almost came when he felt a pair of long legs wrap around his waist.

“Faster,” Ian begged, and Mickey could only oblige.

Their hips were slapping together now as they grunted and moaned, Mickey lunging and Ian clawing at his back. He was letting out deep, punched-out breaths, a telltale sign that Mickey was hitting the mark. He almost smirked, relishing in being the one to give him that white-hot pleasure even as he was desperate to be in his husband’s position.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Mickey gasped, his hips jerking. His balls were tightening and he could feel his belly pulsing and quivering.

“Do it,” Ian barked, his voice gravelly and low with arousal.

“Are you—?”

“Doesn’t matter. Please. I want you to come inside me,” he demanded, his voice tight.

Mickey panted and glanced down at his husband’s cock. He was hard, and his body was flushed and sweating with lust.

Not in the mood to argue with his orgasm so close, Mickey nodded and began to thrust in earnest. He was sweating with the exertion, but it was only when he felt a hand grip his ass and then slide between his cheeks to his hole that he became totally helpless to it. Ian slid his middle finger inside him and began to fuck it in and out rapidly, and it was with a whimper and a couple of thrusts later that Mickey was coming hard. His hips totally lost whatever rhythm he’d found as he pressed into him and found his release, and he let out a strangled moan of pleasure as he pulsed and shook through the crescendo.

They were both panting fit to burst a lung as Mickey pulled out of him and rolled to the side. It was quiet in the room save for the sound of their breathing and occasional groan.

Eventually, when they had both calmed down a little, Mickey found himself glancing over at his husband with a lopsided grin. Ian looked back at him, his face still pinked, his legs still spread.

“Your turn,” Mickey said softly, grinning even wider now.

Ian grinned back and reached for the lube before rolling over and settling between Mickey’s legs. Barely ten seconds seemed to pass before his fingers were slick with lube and rubbing over his hole, then his own now-fully hard cock.

“Ungh, fuck,” Mickey grunted, his legs opening wider as he felt the head of Ian’s erection push against him.

Ian moaned softly as he slid inside in one fluid stroke, his brow furrowing as he bottomed out. Mickey reached up and placed his hands on his ribs, his body relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss but his cock still half-hard. His refractory period was as short as it had ever been despite the fact that he was no longer a teenager, but he didn’t mind if he didn’t come again. He just wanted Ian to release some of the pressure that had been building up inside of him, but that he’d been unable to get out with his body so compromised.

Above him, Ian was hitching his legs up and hooking his elbows under his knees. He groaned and began to thrust in and out, slowly at first. He built up the pace with a moan, but it took only a brief nudge of Mickey’s heel into his hip for him to get the message.

It was a clumsy, discordant fuck, lacking almost all of their usual finesse. Somehow they shifted and Ian’s leg ended up hooked over Mickey’s, but it allowed them a deeper penetration that had Mickey’s cock standing to attention barely ten minutes after he’d come inside his husband.

“Fu-uck-!” Mickey gasped. His thigh quivered as Ian’s cock pulled a lightning charge from his body and he arched his back with a whine.

“You close?” Ian panted. Mickey’s other leg was resting on Ian’s shoulder, where his mouth pressed against his calf as he panted and worked himself into a sweat.

Mickey nodded and his nails dug into Ian’s bicep as he writhed and chased his orgasm. Ian’s hand found his cock, made a fist around it and began to rub it mercilessly. His rhythm stuttered and he was grunting with his eyes screwed shut.

“Fuck—Ian, I’m—!” Mickey gasped.

Ian gave a guttural moan, the volume barely kept in check as he pressed into him and came.

Mickey found his own release at the first pulse of Ian’s orgasm, a strange feeling deep inside that turned him on no end. He moaned lowly and his body shook with ecstasy as he came in hot stripes across his belly.

Above him, Ian’s hips were shaking as he emptied himself. Glancing up, Mickey could see Ian’s face in the semi-darkness, reddened and slightly sweaty with exertion.

“Fuck,” Mickey gasped, his head flopping down onto the pillow behind him. His body was bent at a weird angle from the way their limbs had tangled, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Ian was panting now, his body free of the tension that he’d been suffering with these past couple of weeks. Mickey was relieved. He knew his husband had a sex drive to rival his and it would’ve been bothering him not to be able to release that pressure.

Slowly, he began to extricate himself from Mickey’s body. Mickey tried not to feel disappointed, but they were kind of sticky with sweat and it wasn’t pleasant anyway, especially now he had cum all over his belly.

“Jesus, what the fuck,” Ian snickered as he awkwardly wriggled around. “We look like a goddamn… Hindu god or some shit…”

Mickey laughed quietly as Ian untangled them and he lifted his legs as necessary to help him pull away. He sighed as he felt him slide out, his cock now spent. They cleaned up as well as they could, but there was a wetness between his legs that he was going to have to deal with, though Ian probably would too. But it could wait for a moment.

They settled back against the mattress and Ian pulled him close until he was resting his head on his shoulder with a long, freckled arm slung around him.

“Do you feel better?” Mickey asked softly, gently stroking his wrist.

Ian was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said softly. He sounded tired.

“Good,” Mickey replied, and shut his eyes as his body began to sink into sleep.

It was silent for a few moments and Mickey assumed that his husband had dropped off to sleep before him.

“For a while I thought… that I wouldn’t be able to get it up again…” he mumbled.

Mickey furrowed his brow. “Why would you think that?”

Ian was silent.

“Ian, you know the side effects don’t last. We’ve been through this before, and it always balances out eventually,” he said softly, turning his head and glancing up at his husband.

“Mm…”

“Don’t over think it. It’s gonna take a while for you to feel normal again. Well, as normal as you usually are,” he said with a fond smile.

Ian smirked. “At least my dick is working again,” he said after a few more minutes of silence.

Mickey laughed quietly. “Yeah it is,” he said proudly.

“You’re a pretty good top too, you know,” Ian said teasingly. “I’ll have to get you to give it to me more often.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You better not stop fuckin’ me just ‘cause you got a taste for my dick in your ass now, shithead.”

Ian laughed. “I won’t, I promise,” he said. “Jesus, I was right about the bossy bottom thing. Gonna get me goin’ again, Mick.”

Mickey snorted. “Save it for the morning, Casanova.”

A few days later, Mickey woke up to a familiar hardness poking into the back of his thigh. They celebrated by fucking loudly enough for Debbie to yell at them to shut up from across the hall.

Relief was a sweet, sweet feeling. 


End file.
